


The Chosen Huntress

by Contevent



Category: DCEU, Tomb Raider (Video Games), Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, And then it just blew up, Bondage, Chances are me too, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Eventual extended universe, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Graphic Description, If you end a chapter wondering what's going to happen next, Look this was supposed to be porn alright, Original Character(s), S&M, Then it was "ho but it must make sense"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-08-24 01:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16630475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Contevent/pseuds/Contevent
Summary: Lara Croft is both loved and hated by the archeological community, making incredible finds and more often than not leaving only ruins in her wake. So it was a surprise when she got officially invited to an exposition by Diana Prince, a discreet but influential individual in those closed circles. Set to be in the Louvre, in Paris, the exhibition is to be about the representation of Artemis throughout the ages, an event for which she has contributed by renting some items of her impressive personal collection. Little did she know that the interest of Diana was more than professional, and that it would the first steps in an adventure that would shake the very foundation of the world.





	1. The divine spark

**Author's Note:**

> The following events happen in the aftermath of the first Wonder Woman movie, ignoring the presence of other super heroes. Lara Croft’s adventures so far are from the soft reboot, meaning Tomb Raider 2013, Rise of the Tomb Raider, and Shadow of the Tomb Raider. If you are unfamiliar with any of those works, do not worry. This fanfic contains all the informations needed for understanding the context, the characters, and the plot. Thank you for your attention. The curtains opens, the stage is set.

31st August 2017.  
23h48  
Paris, Louvre.

The Winged Victory of Samothrace laid silent in the underground museum. Massive, majestic, even in her broken and mutilated state. Like many of its sisters, the millennia hadn’t been kind on her. It had been found in Greece, broken in a multitude of pieces, each of which had been patiently analysed, restored, and put together. Even without her head and arms, you could feel the winged goddess of victory Nike descending lightly from the sky, her posture triumphant in the wind. It was baffling to imagine the 2,44 meters statue was pure parian marble.  
She was the greatest work of art of the Hellenistic period, a priceless work of art showing the skill and mastery of the people of ancient time. Even uprooted from her native shores, even exposed as a witness of time long gone, she stood. Proud. Cared for. A true victory over the inevitable truths of change and decay.

Often Diana contemplated the work of art, alone in the dark, with no witness nor distraction. In her path to become a curator, she came to be intimate with a great number of work of art. Her fascination for human culture had been her main motivation throughout the XXth century. And yet for all the love she had for modernity, the evocation of her native shores always warmed her heart. For if she loved Humanity, she wasn’t one of them.  
Hovering over the Winged Victory, Diana Prince gazed down in nostalgia. For most of her life her world had been a world of warriors, of Gods and Goddesses, of clear purpose, and purity of ideals. A century ago she had left her island knowing she could never come back. But she was on a sacred mission. She wanted to save Humanity. It was nearly a century ago, and she had learned since the cruel subtleties and greyness of the world of men. From carer of lives, she became carer of culture, of the spirit that governed people. As time had forgotten her contributions, falling in the shadows had been all to easy, and finally here she was. In the presence of the largest collection of art in the world, surrounded by memories of home. A victory of its own, in a world of grey.

But it was enough self reflecting for a Thursday night.  
Gracefully landing amidst the silent witnesses, Diana ordered her thoughts. It had been a busy day, well, a busy five months really. Her job had led her to many sleepless nights and unreasonably tight schedules in the past, a necessary evil for the curator of the Antiquity Department, but lately things had been even more crazy. At her behest, the Louvre was opening an exhibition on the representations of Artemis throughout the ages next Wednesday, and Diana had been overworked ever since.  
Making her way in the silent museum, passing by rows upon rows of murals, fragments, and statues, she headed for the stairs toward the main entrance. It wasn’t the first time work had pushed her far into the night, but the bureaucratic nightmare she had unleashed upon herself was unheard of even for France’s standards, whose love for forms in triplicates was second to none. Her assistant Ludovic had worked tirelessly to obtain the documents that had escaped her attention, busy she had been negotiating with the whole damn world and their husbands the gathering in one place of all the pieces of the exposition. Now all that remained was “just a few signatures”. They were less than a week away from the event. She wanted to punch someone.

“Another night delivery?” Asked a deep voice in front of her.

Lost in her thought she had made it to the entrance without realizing it. The hall was eerily empty, but the rain outside battered against the glass pyramid above them filling the silence of the place. Standing in the centre of the hall was Ali, the scarred security guard whose long slow stride and scary face never failed to intimidate children. Most nights he would silently roam the museum, armed with only his torch and his uncanny ability never to get lost. The echoes of his implacable walk resonated like a warning to all would be burglar. Legends said he had the warmest smile, but it was a secret he never bothered to share with anyone.

“I hope I’m not bothering you, I didn’t know I would have one until hours ago.”  
“It’s no problem”, he shrugged while mechanically reaching for his keys. “As long as you respect protocols.”  
“Ali, have I ever disappointed you?”  
“A pretty face and nice clothes does not make character.”  
“I will have none of that.”

Her retort was cold as stone, and as brutal as his quip had been. The security guard was tall and burly, but the curator was even taller, and her finely crafted clothed hid a powerful build, honed by centuries of training. She had found her stature and force of will to be intimidating to men around her, and their reactions were often deplorably predictable.  
Ali just grumbled something akin to an apology while looking away, and followed Diana up the stairs to the glass doors. One would think being of divine parentage would ease her life among the humans, but it was not so in the least. She may have been a supreme warrior, her powers meant little in the face of everyday violence, of social pressure, of inequality and injustice. The world was ruled by humans, and even if she conquered the Earth she would not change that. Humans were the only ones able to save themselves.  
Ali and Diana were not strangers, but despite her attempt to know him better he always refused to connect. Insecure in his job, he had gone from a respected figure in his family to a lone security guard with few human interactions. She had treated him as an equal, but he seemed stuck in his inferiority complex, surrounded by men and women of higher rank. He wasn’t cruel, or sadistic. Just a good man gone bitter. She didn’t thought herself superior to him, but she would never accept disrespect. And that was all she could do.

The rain was furious outside, autumn had finally decided to fall after all. Climate change had disrupted the ways of the world profoundly, but people didn’t seem to notice, even when the changes became noticeable in their lifetime. Another way for them to self destruct. Usually she would have had to waited on the parvis, but an understanding look between Ali and her was all it took. Thankfully, they didn’t had to wait very long, for a young man arrived on a washed out yellow moped. He had for sole uniform an equally yellow and equally old biker set, a damaged helmet, and a perfectly sealed reinforced black box with the “L24” logo of the company.  
He hurried under the rain to the doors, and Ali opened for him. Despite his attire covering him from head to toes, the L24 people were always safe. The company itself was specialized in urgent deliveries, but used underpaid students and night owls to make them. Those desperate people worked inhuman hours, but somehow the L24 never seemed to run out of martyr.

“This is the worse night!” He exclaimed as he pranced around completely soaked.  
“Sorry for the inconvenience.” smiled Diana as she relieved him of his package.  
“Do you mind if I hu...”

The youthful boy wanted to sit and rest a little. Ali didn’t have the heart to refuse, but adopted his most intimidating posture, probably hoping it would eventually scare the delivery man away. To little effect. The faceless boy fell on a seat no far like a runner at the end of a marathon. It was probably a long night for him too.  
Diana wasted little time, sitting in a corner, opening the box herself, and trying to see if it was all that she needed despite the lack of light. Inside were several dossiers, a few letters, and a stack of forms to be processed. All late, of course, but Ludovic had done a marvellous job at getting it all together on such a short notice. The young student had a gift for getting things done, be it in a dig or from door to door, and she would make sure he had his recommendation. Thanks to her own contacts in the administration, she would have them processed before Monday, ensuring the whole exposition would go smoothly.

But as she got up to sign to receipt, she froze. A deathly silence had brutally fallen on the Louvre. In an instant, Diana went from barely able to hear her own thoughts to have her heartbeat rhythm in her ear. She looked around, confused, wary, only to see Ali and the delivery man motionless, unresponsive to her call. And outside, millions upon millions of rain drops were frozen in mid air. Her blood began to warm, her fighting instincts flared after decades of peace. Magic, of the highest order.  
Time had stopped for everyone but her.

“Long time no see Diana.”

The voice came out of nowhere, reverberating on the glass pyramid, filling the hall, emptier than ever. It was the voice of a man, booming, powerful, pleased. Godly.

“Ares…” she muttered, readying herself for battle.  
Her body burned with energy, her hand reached inside her suit to her divine lasso. She didn’t carry her sword with her, but she would pummel him to the ground nonetheless, again. How did he survive their last encounter? She didn’t know. But he wouldn’t survive another.

“...Ares?” The disembodied voice seemed shocked. Then laughed with the disconcerting enthusiasm of a young boy. “Ho no! Please! I’m far, far from Ares...”

The yellow man stood up, leaving the still waters from his clothes behind, like a chrysalis. The divine warrior swung in an instant, unleashing her golden lasso like a furious whip... only for it to stopped in mid air, frozen. Like the rest of the universe. So she lunged at him. A rush was so powerful her right shoe was obliterated against the stone floor as she devoured the distance between them. But just as she was about to connect, her prey vanished in a yellow blur, reappearing well behind her. Diana took flight mid charge, gaining altitude dominating the arena. His speed was surreal!

“By Olympus!,” He laughed again. “You Children of Zeus always inherit his temper!”

With expertise, the yellow man took his helmet off, revealing a face of extraordinary beauty. Curled red hair fell on the side of his head, his eyes were powerful, shining in the dim light, brimming with energy. His smile, impish and cocksure. The demigoddess was stunned. Her mind went blank. 

“Impossible… Hermes...?”

The God smiled magnificently, opening his arms in a grandiose fashion

“You DO remember me!”

Diana had never met him before. But there was no doubt, as if she could see the divine spark in his soul. As if she was meant to recognize him. Before her was Hermes, ancient god of messenger and merchants, the bond that united the Gods. Gods, who had all been murdered.  
And here he was, in the body of a mailman, prancing and dancing of excitement.

“Ho I MISSED this!”

He tapped his feet on the ground like an overjoyed rabbit, and then disappeared in a yellow blur. Only to reappear instantly, standing with one hand on Ali’s head. Diana, still overlooking the scene from up high, was confused and in awe. She had been told since birth that the Gods had been betrayed and killed by Ares, the God of War. She, as the last descendant of Zeus, had been birthed in order to overcome that foe, and ever since that victory she had thought herself alone. The last demigoddess, unable to come home.  
Confusion subsided soon enough, and in its place a wave of happiness took her over. In one swoop, she intercepted the God of Olympus during a pirouette and embraced him in a powerful hug.

“You are real! You are… You exists! I thought… I didn’t know! How are you there? What happened?”--She suddenly stopped. “Is Ares back too?  
“Diana...” He squealed, trying a smile through the pain. “I’m a God, but that body is still quite mortal...”

In her excitement, she had snatched him far above the ground like a rag-doll, her powerful arms squeezing him vigorously. With a faint smile she loosen her grip. But still she was overwhelmed by the situation, for that young, red-haired boy was a God too. Remembering the status of the person she was holding, she gently landed with him in the middle of the main hall.  
Once on the ground, she took a step backward, letting Hermes massage his visibly sore arms. She attempted to solemnly put a knee down, but he cut her off immediately.

“There’s no need for that with me,” he said with a crystalline voice, “Not between us. Not alone anyway.”  
“I have so many questions… I thought you were all dead. My mother told me Ares had destroyed all the Gods of Olympus.”  
“Hyppoleta! Of course, extraordinary woman. And very accurate, we were indeed all killed. In fact, that’s why I’m here.”

Their voices were echoing in the empty hall. Diana’s mind was racing frenetically. Her life had taken a sudden turn, it was hard to think that an exhibition was her biggest concern mere minutes earlier. It was the first time an Olympian God had walked the Earth in a century, at least one that wasn’t moved by genocidal ambitions. With deference she stood to attention and let the God speak.

“First of all,” he said while dusting his yellow suit, “I’m very restricted. Zeus only allowed me to deliver my message.”  
“Of course, I am listening.” She said while hiding a shiver down her spine. A message from Zeus?  
“Yes… A very important message I insisted to be delivered to you. One that you must absolutely pay attention to, if you don’t want any sinister consequences.”

For a fraction of a second, Hermes’s tone shifted from jovial to sombre. And soon enough, like a comedian, his face radiated happiness again. Hermes was a God of speed and travel, but in Diana’s bed time stories, he often was the cunning and mischievous one. Always outsmarting his enemies, even when they were his friends. Behind those curly hair and this youthful appearance was a millennia old being, with powers beyond Diana’s imagination.  
Hermes extended his arms, as if reaching for invisible ropes. And suddenly, he started a dramatic dance, his movements punctuating his message, as if telling the story with his sole body.

“Killing a god is a hard thing to do,” he started, his hands over his eyes. “When Ares killed us, he merely banished our souls in the underworld. We escaped the void... but Hades!” His stance became rigid, regal, almost imperious. “Hades who had sworn neutrality in the conflict, Hades whose rules bends for none, nor mortal, nor friends, nor brother nor sister. Hades whose duty saved the world above from the darkest horrors since time immemorial. Hades, who was spared by Ares, refused us passage back to the living.”

Hermes’s words were harsh, but Diana noticed a strange sweetness in his eyes. True to the myth, Hades was implacable, but as the god of travel described the scene with an accusatory tone, his dance was non-threatening, almost sad. By some magic she didn’t know, Diana could almost feel the burden of the Ruler of the Underworld, unable to help the Gods as if chained by rules greater than all of them.  
Hermes’s stance broke, and he was now dancing menacingly as his words recounted the death of Ares.

“When the traitor god died by your hand,” he continued “His soul joined the Countlesses in the world below. Hades judged him justly. His victims were even harsher.”  
He then proceeded to extend his arms one more, in a final, triumphant pose. His skin even gradually began to shine like the sun as his voice rose into a shout.  
“With the Earth now free of the evil influence of the traitor, Zeus has decided to lead the Gods back to their former glory. A plan is in motion to resurrect us all Diana! Not merely possessing the rare faithfuls, but true resurrection. The return of Olympus!”

The declaration boomed across the Louvre like a declaration of victory over fate. If the world hadn’t been asleep, it would have overwhelmed all throughout the gigantic museum. It felt as if the mere fact of pronouncing the words were going to make it true, as if Olympus itself was about to enter the Louvre. But nothing happened. And soon the voice died, as Hermes allowed an uneasy silence to linger after it. The clamour had been shouted, and yet Hermes wasn’t done yet.

“And you have a role” he finally said, his postures suddenly relaxed. Minuscule compared to the power of his previous statement. Instead of dancing, he merely invited her to follow him as he climbed back the stairs toward the main entrance.  
“As warrior-born, you will be our agent in this world, and make sure no threat may endanger our return. Neither magic, nor tool, nor fire, nor man, nor woman must present a single risk to the Gods. By Zeus’s decree, and by my council, so is your duty.”  
He stopped in the middle of the stairs, his back at the towering daughter of Zeus. And suddenly turned around and winked impishly.  
“End of message.”

They slowly continued their ascension. Her mind firmly anchored in order not to be blown away by the announcement, the demigoddess felt…. Alive. Bursting of joy. She was now looking around at the museum and it looked… so small and meaningless. A mission from the Gods themselves made everything else seems like a distraction, and she couldn’t wait to start her new mission.  
And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that Hermes had delivered two messages instead of one. In the stories, he was a cunning God, always scheming behind everyone’s back, too smart for his own good. But never in evil, always in compassion. So what was this feeling? After all, just before delivering the orders of Olympus, he had strangely insisted on her being attentive, or risk sinister consequences.  
Hermes arrived before the entrance first, and squealed a little laugh. With one powerful step, he jumped like a gymnast from the stairs to the entrance, doing more somersault than humanly possible, and landing perfectly straight right besides the L24 box.

“What do you think?” He smiled, while taking the dossiers in the box and juggling with it. “Do you think I could get in the Olympics?”  
“You are the strangest God I have ever met”

Their laughter lightened the mood. The atmosphere had gone inexplicably heavy, and Diana was beginning to welcome Hermes’s lack of gravitas. But she was still bugged by strange thoughts. 

“If I may ask… you said you insisted that this message should be delivered to me. Why?”

The face of the Messenger God lit up, literally. With one expert move, his foot propelled the whole box in the air, and he began to juggle with it too. The curator had a little moment of panic, her thoughts turning to Ludovic and all the work he had accomplished to get all those papers in time. For an instant she couldn’t tell which was more important, the dossiers or a God’s joy. And it troubled her.

“Since you ask about that,” He slowly said, putting weight on every word. “I guess I can tell you.”  
His attention seemingly entirely focused on the volleys of objects in the air, he started to talk with a carefree tone.  
“It reminds me of the day I died. Ares had stricken me with a cursed arrow who drew nearer to my heart for each step I took. I stayed immobile for the whole battle, waiting for the victory. And I saw him slay everyone, before being wounded by a dying Zeus. I was alone, and I had but two steps left to live. And so… I used all the powers I had and I leaped like only a God can!”  
The contrast between his buffooneries and his discourse was striking, but Diana listened in silence. Hermes dexterously led all the dossiers and letters into the box in mid air and let it fall back exactly where it was before he took it. With a clownesque bow, he thanked his unique assistance and continued.

“I leaped all across the world in a single bound and I looked down on Earth, on the humans. I saw their actions, their cities, their mistakes but also the proof of their greatness. In the grounds of the field, in the waters of their irrigation, in the tenderness of their temples, in the cleverness of their architecture. I leaped across the globe, the sun always in my back. But I was sad in my heart. Not because I was going to die, ho no, I was at peace with that. Can you guess why I was sad?”

Diana, who was retrieving her lasso still frozen in the air, didn’t wonder for long. Hermes, more than any other God of Olympus, loved the humans. As the God sat down on the chair where the yellow man had first sat before the conversation, she answered without a hint of doubt.

“Ares. You were worried for humanity.”  
“Exactly!”  
He laughed one last time, letting it linger for as long as he could. Then he put the damaged helmet back, hiding his godly beauty.  
“As I glided across the world I love so much, I had a terrible thought. What would happen to humanity under the dominion of a… temperamental God.”

A thunderous roar suddenly exploded outside. Startled, Diana looked away from Hermes, and saw the rain falling in an unbearable din.

“Hey miss what happened to your shoe?”

The yellow man’s voice was strangely human. Hermes was gone, leaving her with his cryptic message. Switching back from demigoddess to curator, she merely shrugged.

“It was old, don’t worry.”

It had been smashed irreparably, but her divine encounter had made it, and everything else, irrelevant. She took a deep breath, as if to let the proper flow of the world wash away the incredible experience she had just had. She could still feel the warmth of the divine spark. Ali was looking a bit worried about her, his keen eye had probably noticed a change in attitude. Little did he know that not long ago, a God of Olympus danced on his head.

“Damn my back!” Complained the mailman. “I feel like I’ve fallen from stairs. Night shift doesn’t suit me.”  
“Well you saved me tonight sir.” Answered Diana, between shame and amusement. “Your delivery was… very important.”  
“Well… wow. No problem miss Prince, it’s a pleasure.”

She drew a pen and he mechanically drew the receipt out of his pocket. Hermes had mentioned that he could only possess him because he was one of the faithful. She smile at the thought of a young man offering tribute to a dead god. Even in this disenchanted world, anything was possible.

“Hey what the… Ho man!” Exclaimed the mail man, suddenly getting up.

Ali uncrossed his arms, ready to jump at the first sign of trouble, but the man in yellow merely turned around, opened the visor of his helmet, and began to search the inside of it frenetically. Expertly hiding his face, he took something out, closed back his visor, and turned around with another letter in his hand.

“I’m so sorry miss, I don’t know how I didn’t notice it! It’s a letter from the box, I must have let it slip in my helmet somehow.”

The delivery man’s posture had comically crumbled under the weight of shame, prompting a sigh of annoyance from Ali, ever severe. Diana reassured the young man with a hand on his shoulder, but he seemed inconsolable. Deciding he needed to leave immediately, he apologized again before storming out under the rain with the empty box and the receipt. His outdated moped blared and sputtered outside, and soon he disappeared into the night.  
Ali silently closed the door and then politely offered to throw away the rest of her shoe still lying on the ground. But the curator just thanked him, took everything, and headed back to her office.

Her way back was long and silent, her bare feet making no noise under the gaze of the art on the walls. She allowed herself to think back to her divine encounter, and what it meant. The Gods were dead, but they could return. They even were on their way, only worried that someone or something on this side would hinder them. She had a mission again. And it felt good.  
But Hermes had also delivered a warning, a sombre omen hidden in his act. Things were not clear, and as she had learned a century ago, nothing had ever been black and white in this world.  
As she entered her office and threw everything on her desk, she realized that the instructions themselves had been scarce in detail. Her mission was clear, neither magic, nor tool, nor fire, nor man, nor woman must present a single risk to the Gods. She wanted to start making plans on how to accomplish that, to take action once again, to feel the righteousness of a good cause. But on the other end, the more she thought about it, the more curious she grew. Sitting here, alone in her office, the questions kept piling up. When will the Gods return? How? Where?  
Her hand absent-mindedly took the letter the yellow man had “found” in his helmet. No doubt Hermes had intentionally put it there, perhaps as a joke, perhaps as her first clue.

It was nothing important or urgent, Ludovic had told her that since he was already gathering papers, he would also take her mail at the same time. Diana already knew its content, it was an official confirmation of rent, private collectors had to sent them to feed the ever starving French administration. It would simply go into the archive somewhere, never to see the light of day.  
But perhaps there was more than met the eye. After all, Hermes had sprinkled warning and doubts, finally to deliver this letter to her in the most obvious fashion. It had to be important.

Pushing the rest aside, Diana put the letter flat on her desk.  
On the back was written the identity of the sender.

The Right Honourable  
The Marchioness of Guildford  
Lara Croft.


	2. The pure and the lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Diana was tasked to prevent anything that would hinder the return of the Gods. While overjoyed to have a clear purpose again, she was troubled by Hermes's sinister implications. Following his clues, she decides to inquire about a young British Marquess named Lara Croft.

6th of September 2017  
11:37 am  
Paris

Staring through the subway window as the lights went by, Lara waited. The wagon was nearly empty. With only a few travellers with her, her senses assaulted by the screeching of the transport, she felt quietly anxious. It had been months since she had gone away from the Croft Manor, and even before that she had started to shy away from social events. Solitude, training, and study had become an enticing routine, one which she didn’t relinquish easily.  
It wasn’t as if she was a social beast to begin with. Aside from a few close friends, the people she knew best had been dead for centuries, and the belongings that didn’t got claimed by some successor was in her possession. She was an archaeologist, but also a collector. Her opinions, theories, and reputation had however made her the bane of the community, and she was all too happy to stay away from her “colleagues”. She had lived so many things, saw so much, but it was as if the world refused to open itself to new revolutionary knowledge. And she had grown tired of the righteous wailing of their wounded egos.

The feeling seemed mutual, as invitations had stopped soon after a debate about the decline of the Maya turned into a brawl. Since then her contacts with the community had been sparse. That was why the mail she received had been so unexpected.  
A few days ago she had been contacted by the Louvre museum who extended to her an invitation to their exhibition on Artemis. A courtesy for her contribution. She had thought about declining, but she was intrigued by the exposition itself. Mythology always fascinated her, and if Greek mythology didn’t have the exotic aura of more different cultures, it was still a timeless classic that had nourished her dreams as a little girl. And so she broke away from Croft Manor, if only for a day or two, and headed to France.

She hastily got out at the Palais Royal – Musée du Louvre station and headed for the exit, toward fresher air. Wearing a simple hoodie with a backpack, she was blending in nicely with the dirty walls covered in advertisement. At least she was dry. A drizzle had welcomed her at her arrival in train, and from the humidity in the subway, it hadn’t stopped all morning. The last time she had been in the capital, it had been under a relentless heat wave. And she had been with Sam. Lara mostly followed her around as they devoured the architecture of the city the day, and the parties at night. Happier, simpler times.  
She buried that thought deep inside and just kept moving.

The underground corridors smelled of railway and smoke, like stale metal floating in the air. Cold and humid, only getting colder as she approached the exit.  
A whistle made her heart jump.

“You look nice lady! Want to come here and have fun?”

Her french needed work but she recognized the tone of cat callers. Three young adults, leaning on the walls, were watching the few people pass them by. They had chosen her. Her whole body tensed. Just moving on.

“Hey don’t ignore us bitch!”

They followed her as she walked. There was just a few people in the corridor. Nobody would help her. The exit felt so far.  
One of the boys went right past her and walked backward in front of her, limiting her speed as the other two shadowed her from behind. She was trembling.

“Come on, it’s just some fun, don’t you want to know us?”

He slowed down. She didn’t.  
Her feet dashed forward, her hands flew out of her pockets and she threw herself on the boy. His size didn’t matter, nor his face, nor his clothes, nor his past, nor his intention. He had his throat exposed and she had a knife. The boy crumbled under her sudden attack, his yell cut off by brutal fist to his windpipe as Lara slithered behind him. In an instant, her blade was on his right eye as he lied down, gasping for air.

“So who’s first?” She threatened, staring at the other two still numb with confusion. “Who wants some fun?”

To the first boy’s horror, his friends ran away without saying a word, their feet resonating in the long corridor. She was alone with him. As alone as she needed to be. Her fist broke his nose right here and there, and she ran away toward the exit.

She got out. The rain was still gently falling amidst the cars and the centuries old buildings. The smell of asphalt and exhaust gas was overwhelming, forcing its way in her lungs. She took a few steps forward. Grabbed the nearest bollard. And tried to control her shaking.

“Move forward. Move forward. Move forward.”

She repeated those words until the tears dried and the chest pain subsided. The rush died away. It only took a few seconds, but she needed to move. To leave that place behind. And she did.

The Louvre Palace was just on the other side of the street.  
The new exhibition had attracted a lot of attention, from schools, to tourists, to groups, and it showed outside. The streets were busy with all kinds of people, and considering the time most of them were probably looking for a dry place to eat. The entries must have been crowded since the opening. Thankfully, Lara didn’t have to worry about that.  
Crossing the street, zigzagging between the cars, she headed straight for the side entrance. From the exterior, it looked like a gigantic wall of columns and windows, but it didn’t stood out in this city. Everywhere you looked the buildings were old, from another era, times clashing harmoniously, among the cars and the buses. She always loved when archaeology was alive, and not ruin in some long forgotten place. There was so much to learn just by opening your eyes. So many memories just under your fingers.

The security at Porte Richelieu controlled her invitation while she emptied her backpack for inspection. She only had brought some essentials, clothes, food, first aid kit, papers. She wasn’t even sure she’d stay the whole day, but she preferred to be ready. She had to leave her knife and her scissors behind, but that was nothing unexpected. Once everything checked out, and once she crammed in everything back in the backpack, she just asked for the nearest public toilets. They gave her a map.  
The museum was very calm at this hour. There were a few families still walking around, lone amateurs visibly lost, the occasional security guard. And nobody in the restroom. A small miracle. Of course her first stop in such a gigantic museum with an exhibit she had been invited too was to be the lavatories, but she did needed some time alone. And so, she sat on the toilet bowl.  
And sobbed uncontrollably.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

She hadn’t expected it, but the Louvre was mesmerizing.  
After regaining her composure, the young archaeologist had tentatively walked toward the exhibition, but turned away at the last moment. After all she had all the time in the world, or so she rationalized. And so she wandered in the gigantic museum, absent-mindedly watching the art on the wall. She felt like a ghost walking among masters long gone, their lives, their ambition vibrating through their work. More than a single exhibit, she let herself be permeated by the ambiance.  
Walking through time and space, through eras and arts, Lara felt… free. The history of humanity, its souls evolving, changing, adapting, translating from language long dead into a universal, timeless meanings. She loved museums. She had almost forgotten how much. It wasn’t too long before she started to get curious about specific works, as their enticing characteristics awoke the storyteller in her. Archaeology, her first professor had revealed to her, is science, discipline, rigor, all in the name stories. Archaeology is about resurrecting the ghosts, giving voice to the silent witnesses, and extend a hand to the people we once were, and could be again.

She never forgot. Even after everything, after all the horrors. She was still the same.  
Her feet had led her to a gigantic painting that made her stop dead in her track. The Raft of the Medusa. Before her, a mountain of corpses, stacked upon one another in the middle of the raging sea. A raft, barely more than debris floating, sinking. Already, the survivors had began to die. Their corpses drifting slowly toward the ocean as the living were crying, screaming for help, their hands raised toward the sky. Toward the horizon. But there was nothing. Nothing but the sea, hard as stone. Nothing but death at their door.

“It just draws you in doesn’t it?”

The voice was besides her, feminine and sweet. But Lara didn’t dare to look away.

“It’s the end for them.”  
“Not for all of them. There were fifteen survivors.”  
“It’s based on a real event?”  
“Inspired. Géricault met with survivors, and couldn’t let their fate fade away.”  
“He wanted to tell their story...”

Lara’s tone became distant. Silently, she was overwhelmed by her own despair. As if the suffering of those souls lost at sea called to her. She couldn’t avert her eyes away from the gaze of one of the men. His back turned from the living, he was holding the body a young man. Was he his son? His brother? His lover? It didn’t matter, the man had no more will to live. Frozen in stupor, the man looked away, his eyes wide open, his gaze empty. There was nothing left in him.

“But all is not lost.” Said the voice, breaking the spell. “Look at the horizon.”

Lara discreetly shuddered and approach the massive painting. Away, far away, a ship could be seen. Minuscule, almost invisible among the waves. Almost an illusion. The survivors were waving at it.

“It can’t see them.” She said. “There is no way, not at this distance.”  
“Perhaps, but they have hope.”  
“A false one?”  
“You could choose to believe that. I’d rather see it as a promise of help. Some light before the end.”

Lara smiled a bit. She had regained her senses. It was just a painting, open to interpretation. She felt a bit silly, getting all worked up for something as vague and unreliable as art.

“I guess it can be true.” She said, turning around. “We see what we want to s--”

Her voice died as she saw her interlocutor. She was tall, one head taller than Lara, draped in a dress of white and gold almost… casually thrown over her shoulders, running along her form in an ethereal cascade. Sleeveless, its simplicity somehow made her impressive muscles irradiate a soft and gentle feeling of power. From one shoulder to the other, a simple band of cloth highlighted the grace of her proportions while elegantly directing the eye to her face. Golden jewellery adorned her, bringing out her fair skin, and eyes of almost shining brown. Her long, dark hair were tied in an intricate dance, freeing her whole visage for all to see.  
Lara felt thoroughly inadequate.

With a sweet smile, the giant approached and offered her hand.

“I am Diana Prince, one of the curators of this museum.”  
“Lara. Croft.”

The curator’s hand was so warm and firm. A feeling of bliss collided with a wave of embarrassment. She was all too aware of her own rugged appearance, and confused out of her mind that such a person would approach her. Hiding the maelstrom of emotions behind a smile, she bought herself some time to regain her composure.

“Lady Croft? What a coincidence, I was looking for you.”  
“F-For me?” She smelled of honey and sesame. Lara’s composure would have to wait.  
“I invited you after all, I wanted to welcome you in person.”  
“Well that’s nice.”

A slow, uncomfortable silence fell on both of them. Just enough for Lara’s mind to start working again. Diana Prince. She had heard that name before.

“Aren’t you… the antique dealer that presided over the restitution of those African artefacts?”  
“My, you are well informed. I try not to attract attention. Were you interested in those objects?”  
“Well...” She blushed a little. “Not really. You just have a bit of a reputation among art collectors.”

In truth, Diana Prince had spread dread among collectors for the past ten years. The first time Lara had heard of her was when she rented a piece of her own collection to the Nigerian National Museum. It had been mentioned that several looted pieces of art had been taken out of collector’s hand, alleviating the weight of such rent in their budget. Lara had just switched from adventurer to collector, and was curious of this mysterious figure. Following her trail had been the closest thing she had to an actual work of research, a pass time for sleepless nights. Until recently she had hid perfectly under the radar, but it seemed she had always been there. And the more Lara and others dug up on her, the less they knew.  
To have such a monument appear so suddenly… Lara was baffled.

“I hope not to make the situation awkward Lady Croft. It would pain me to spoil your visit.”  
“No!” she blurted. “Not at all, I’m actually quite fond of your work. You bring people their culture back, it’s admirable.” She paused a bit too long, under the smiling gaze of the curator. “Most of my findings went to local museums, or heirs of some sort. My collection are made either of gifts or pieces nobody… wants.”

During her adventures, she had gathered artefacts that contradicted many archaeological theories, or dipped right in the supernatural. Partially due to her father’s reputation, who too was deeply controversial, she had great trouble being taken seriously. Still she refused to use pseudonyms and hide herself, a bold move that had done nothing but bring her open ridicule. Her credibility was a battle she had gave up on. Now she just rented the most mundane of her items, leaving the experts snicker behind her back.  
It suddenly occurred to her that Diana may know of her already. She didn’t want to leave a bad impression, but before she could open her mouth once more, Diana changed the subject.

“Well then. I will return to my other guests. Your Ladyship is most welcome at my humble exhibit. I would love to enjoy your company a little more.”

And she left, leaving Lara with the warm fragrance of her perfume and a view of a back that looked like it had been chiselled in stone. It took several seconds for her to regain her senses. That encounter had been a shock to say the least, one that shook her off her grim attitude. For a moment, she had forgotten all about… well everything.  
Behind her, the slow torment of the Draft of the Medusa appealed to her no more.  
Perhaps leaving Croft manor had been a good idea after all.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

The exhibit started to attract people again. As the day progressed through the afternoon, a new host of visitors started to pour in. Some of them were guests that Diana or the museum had invited. Most however were groups of schoolchildren whom their teachers were struggling with to keep together. It was no small task, the exhibit itself was large, filled with representations of Artemis, from sculptures and antique pottery to most recent adaptations like the ever polarizing Katnis Everdeen, from the Hunger Games.

“She has so many tities!”

An uproar of laughter filled the room as the teachers desperately tried to regain control. Diana smiled. They were looking at Erichthonius Discovered by the Daughters of Cecrops, by Rubens, a painting in which a statue of Artemis was shown to have no less than five breasts. The children could barely contain themselves. Thankfully, a little game of observation, and one of them seeing a statue of a deer focused their attention elsewhere. Managing children was a particular work, and not always an easy one.

“I am so sorry miss Prince,” said one of the teachers once the group had migrated. “I hope we’re not an inconvenience.”  
“Of course not. Feel free to promise them some of the cakes if you want to. We distribute them at the exit.”

The teacher had an embarrassed smile, and went back to his class, leaving Diana alone amidst the crowd. Her exhibit had started strong, there was an intense professional satisfaction to be had, it was the culmination of months of work. The place was scoured by a bouquet of visitors, from children, to connoisseur, to sponsors. More than that, group reservations had spiked, as the theme of Artemis really attracted attention of all generations. As a curator, it was a resounding success. But her mind was focused elsewhere, as were her eyes.

“You beeped me ma’am?”

A young man made his way beside her. Wearing a suit too tight, borrowed no doubt, and a perpetual dull expression on his face. Ludovic, her assistant. Brilliant, hard worker, inspired, but barely any social awareness. She was convinced he had adopted the buzz cut just because it was simpler to wash.

“Yes, I wanted to ask y- what on earth is that tie?” She remarked, scandalized. And distracted by the greenish rope around her assistant's neck.  
“I hu… borrowed it from my brother.”  
“I’m sure you love your family, but I am beginning to doubt their reciprocity.”  
“Well it was that or the blue tie.”  
“The blue suits you!”  
“It’s bad luck!”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and continued.

“Nevermind. I need you to take over.”  
“Ho?” Ludovic, happy that he was to change subject, couldn’t hide his surprise. “I mean, no problem boss but I thought this was your big moment.”  
“I have nothing to prove, but it can be a great opportunity for you. And besides...” She nodded in the direction of a young lady, perusing the walls, wearing a hoodie and a backpack.  
“Is that… Lara Croft?” For once his face showed some form of undecipherable emotion. “I can’t believe you invited her after all. I thought I made clear she was a ticking bomb.”  
“Is that admiration in your voice?”  
“Well, she knocked three teeth off Doctor Griffin. Who wouldn’t like her.”

She made a point never to smile at the misery of others, but she could hardly blame Ludovic’s feelings. Griffin was obnoxious, romantic, but convinced to be rational. On of those entitled who superposed their vision over the facts rather than be true to the people he studied. This was also why she was so proud of her apprentice. The world needed more honesty. She left him behind after a simple nod, she had complete confidence he would manage fine without her. And she had a more important mission.

Lady Croft was focused on the description of a tetradrachm, a silver coin of ancient Indo-Greek kingdoms. Her captivation looked so enthusiastic, not like that morbid fascination Diana had saw in her eyes when they first met. It was a good sight, such a young one not even in her thirties and already so passionate. So sure of her way. The Demigoddess wondered what part the human would play in Olympus’s plan.

“Hello again Lady Croft.” She said with a genuine smile.  
“Miss Prince!”. Lara was briefly startled, as a thief surprised in the middle of a robbery. “I… was just admiring the collection.”  
“Anything in particular?”  
“Ho, yes.” Once again, Lady Croft left a lingering silence before averting her eyes and regaining her composure. “This hu… this tetradrachm. I actually participated in its discovery.”  
“Really?” Diana smiled “Such a coincidence.”  
“I was just a student at the time. Sam and I were volunteers for the digging in Pakistan, on the flanks of the Sulaiman mountains. Most students were complaining that we weren’t at Punjab or Rawalpindi, but I loved every minute of it. It was such a strange, tensed time. Living in tents, digging day and night, meticulously removing layers upon layers. And the sky was so clear. It was such an adventure… Fred actually found that piece, I just. I didn’t think I’d see it again.”

Her gaze was absorbed by the coin. As if she wanted to plunge in it, to feel it on her palm and relive old memories. Diana felt that sadness again. For someone so young, Lady Croft sure seemed to have aged prematurely. Ludovic’s research had revealed a complex character, moved by great determination. But after some incident nearly five years ago, an expedition that had killed most of their team, she never were the same. Reports were vague, she would disappeared for months, not telling anyone of her whereabouts, appearing all over the world. Whatever had happened during that incident, it had changed her forever.

“Ho sorry”, Lady croft whispered, flustered. “I didn’t mean to be overbearing.”  
“Not at all. It was beautiful.”

The young woman smiled shyly. Diana found her interesting, a bit of a rogue in the community, unconventional, but with passion. Still, what made her special in the eyes of Hermes?

“How about we skim over the rest of the collection your Ladyship?” Diana continued. “There are some pieces I would like you to see.”

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

“...all that because her brother Apollo was Patron of Troy. How could Homer use the Goddess Artemis, the patron of wildlife, goddess of the hunt, the untameable one, and made her side in a conflict between cities? And how come her greatest contribution is getting beat up by Hera like an unruly child?”  
“Perhaps the Gods were meant to represent human action? Some scholar believes that Artemis’s intervention was an image to repres-”  
“To represent the conflict between the eastern and the western parts of a common civilization, I know, but come on! Not only Homer have her humiliated, but he makes her literally cry to Zeus. That’s… That’s such a betrayal!”

Lady Croft gulped her glass of water, preparing for another onslaught of indignation.  
Hours had gone by in the museum, and the vast exhibit was more than enough to sustain a conversation between the two women. It turned out that the young archaeologist was of a rather introvert nature, as Diana had led most of the discussion at first. As they went from artefacts to artefacts, they painted together an image of Artemis, of what she represented, of what she meant. The young lady was reserved at first, but an eagerness was boiling just beneath the surface.  
It only took some excerpt from the Homer’s Iliad to untie her tongue, and since then she had been insatiable. Soon, she began to rant about how Agamemnon, leader of the Greeks was actually a villain who tried to sacrifice her daughter to appease Artemis, only to provoke her even more. And how Artemis saved the daughter, as she was protector of women and girls above all. Like many, Lady Croft seemed to see Artemis as this sort of role model, but unlike most she didn’t talk about her as if it was a statue. She spoke of gods, of legends, of civilizations as if they were still alive, not mere remnants from which to take inspiration. As her speech went on, Diana felt as if she was talking to an amazon of her childhood. For all their goodwill, most people talked about the past as if it was dead. Not her. As Lady Croft continued, she reminded Diana of a time more pure.

This line of thought created a shadow over the Demigoddesse’s mind. Despite the true pleasure she had talking to Lady Croft, she could not shake the feeling she was lying by omission. Their interaction was not fortuitous, and it started as a way to trick the woman into revealing her link to the Olympus. This had been professional.  
Yet, as their conversation prolonged into the evening, Diana had found her more and more endearing. And the greater that feeling grew, the greater the shame was for having used false pretexts. Her ways had always been direct and honest, even her secret identity had been less a matter of lies, and more a matter of discretion.

“I’m sorry… I… I haven’t talk like this in a while.”

Without realizing it, Diana had been distracted by her own thoughts.

“Ho no, it’s me who apologize Lady croft,” Diana replied, putting her hand on the Lady’s shoulder. “I am glad to have made your acquaintance. I wish my work brought me closer to people as invested as you.”  
“You flatter me” Lara answered, blushing away.

She was adorable. The Demigoddess wished she would have learned sooner of her, perhaps take her under her wing. Her boldness and erudition made her a free spirit, eager to learn and to explore. Even her outfit, practical and simple, reminded her of the early archaeologists, in a time where it was less a science and more a daring adventure between bandits and tomb raiders. As her hand lingered on the young one’s shoulder, she noticed a light coming out of her hoodie.

“Lady Croft, I think your phone is ringing.”  
“What? Ho no!”

Snapping away from the curator, she took her phone out and unlocked it. Over her shoulder, Diana noticed missed several alarms from 17h to the present hour. According to the clock, their conversation had led them far past 20h, indeed the exhibit would soon close. Time had just flew by. Whatever news Lady Croft had learned, it had stricken down her good mood.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to leave miss Prince.”  
“An emergency?”  
“No. Well, I didn’t plan on staying in Paris for the night so I didn’t book any hotel. I’ll have to take the train back to London.”

For reasons Diana could not guess, Lady Croft seemed unable to consider returning the next day as she did this morning. Or perhaps she too suffered to interrupt their conversation. A selfish thought perhaps.

“You need not go.”  
“I’m afraid it’s a bit late to book a hotel,” she sadly answered “and it’s not like I brought a car with me.”  
“I meant to invite you to dinner in my home, and welcome you for the night.”

Lady Croft was stunned, a shadow of suspicion in her eyes. 

“That’s… very generous, really but I wouldn’t want to… I mean...”  
“I realize I am very forthright, and I do not wish to-”  
“No it’s alright.” Interrupted the young lady. “I would love to, actually.”

Perhaps it was because she truly enjoyed her company, perhaps it was the small bitterness of guilt she felt over her initial agenda. But as Diana looked upon the radiant yet shy face of Lady Croft, the reasons didn’t matter. She wouldn’t let the night die so soon.


	3. Too young a wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lara seems to have found a kindred spirit in Diana. But in this full moon night, fate will not let her find peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincere apologies for the delays. Taking it seriously, I noticed halfway that I was rewritting the plot of the Wonder Woman's movie. I rewrote the whole plot and read several articles on character development, romance, the romance and adventure genre, etc... But after all this work, writing again proved to be a fucking *pain*. That, and the whole process of rewritting after the first draft made it all drag for a long time. But it's still going strong!  
> I may not be the greatest writer of all time, but this series will continue.
> 
> Bonus: 1 shout out for the first to guess which real life ship-wreak Diana is talking about.

Paris at night was cold and dark, the artificial lights projecting their lifeless glow on the abandoned streets. Sometimes, the clouds subsided in the sky and a full moon gently touched the buildings, giving the city a strange otherworldly aura, as if displaced for a moment. Without landmarks in the distance, each streets was it own universe. And as some were lonely and melancholic places, others were teeming with life. For some, the warmth of the day could be replaced by a few laughter and a steamy coffee under an alcove, and their presence could be heard even from the lonely alleys.  
As strange as her day had been, it promised an even stranger evening. Lara had left her refuge this very morning, and seemingly found another for the night in Diana Prince. Distractingly beautiful, unexpectedly open, dubiously welcoming. The curator had held the conversation with her for hours over various subjects in the museum. In fact, she had shown to be remarkably more lenient than many of her profession regarding Lara herself, although their conversation never wandered into more controversial subjects. It was a blessing. But Lara couldn’t relax.

They were both now walking along the Seine, the main river going through Paris. The air was cold and wet, but Lara had come prepared, her hoodie keeping her warm and dry. Diana had warped herself in a thick yet elegant coat, and led the way in the dark streets with a disconcerting confidence. Even her invitation had been presented as if she was sure Lara would accept. And now here they were, the silence between them in stark contrast with the boiling fervour of their previous discussion.  
Perhaps she was just tired, Lara thought, perhaps she was just intimidated, perhaps she was just exaggerating, but there was something in Lara’s mind that wouldn’t calm down. Like a low, pulsating knot in her mind and her guts. Something was wrong. She slightly bend her ankle to feel her knife in her boot. To calm her fears. Part of her was overjoyed to be able to continue the conversation. That was the sunny part, the part that trusted, the part that was brave enough to try the unknown. The other part was calling her foolish to walk into a trap.

“Here we are.”

Diana turned around and extended a hand toward the Seine. On the side of the river, a long line of barges were mooring over the dark inscrutable waters. Some were richly illuminated, one further away was even hosting what seemed to be a party, while others rocked silently as if asleep. Diana walked up to one and traversed the catwalk to the bridge of one of the barges. With a smile, she took away a set of keys from her purse and simply stated.

“Welcome to my home.”

As they entered the room below the bridge by a narrow staircase, Lara was struke by the unlikely warmth of the curator’s home. They arrived to a living room seemingly stretching from stern to bow. It was richly furnished, with tables and sofas, but also with paintings and decorations on the walls. By the flick of a switch the place was bathed in soft lights, and Lara saw it was more like a mini-museum than living room. There were locked shelves containing various objects of ancient Greece, and bookshelves firmly keeping its content inside with tensioners. It could have been its own storehouse by sheer size, but it was arranged as a home, with a reading corner, a desk for work, and a gramophone with several records beneath.  
Doors at both ends of the room promised even more to see.

“It’s a beautiful place.” she simply commented, taking off her boots.  
“If you wish to refresh a little, there is a bathroom behind you.” Answered Diana. “Feel free to leave your coat and bag there.” She glanced at her with a smile, and charmingly added. “I’m going to pour us something.”.

Without further declaration, they parted ways. Lara was soaked from the sheer humidity outside, and relished the chance to groom herself a bit before continuing the evening. The bathroom was a bit cramped, but it had a mirror in which Lara could freshen up. Alone in front of herself, she took a step back, and a deep breath.  
It was going to be fine.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

“Your collection is impressive, but why are they all replicas?”

Seated at the dinner table, a glass of wine in hand, Lara was referring to a bust of Hera firmly fixed to its pedestal not far. It was a remarkable fake of a first century art piece, the sculptor was obviously a talented craftsman but didn’t bother to apply a fake ageing process. It looked... unsettling.

“Living in a barge has its benefits. Rolling isn’t one of them. I wouldn’t risk real art piece in such an unsteady place.”

Diana had changed into evening wear, and discarded her long white cloth for a more comfortable black dress. That still was a thousand time more refined that anything Lara owned. Maybe she was as allergic to common clothes as she was to common food. After admitting that she wasn’t much of a cook, the curator had ordered food for them to be delivered from some pricey restaurant, because of course she could afford it. Yet, the dinner was of a sublime quality, far better than most of Lara’s experience.  
It was not so with the conversation.  
They started strong, continuing their previously interrupted discussion about Artemis and her place in the different societies from antiquity to their time, but it progressively died out. While Lara was happy to give her input, her hostess was very reserved, letting her speak, only reacting to her opinions without ever giving her own. The conversation about the bust was but another opening Lara had thrown in order to get Diana to return a bit, but as with the other, it was instantly shut down.  
Tension was subtly rising. The glamour of the situation faded bit by bit, like painting slowly peeling, leaving awkwardness in place of wonder. Lara took another sip at the wine to hide her growing discomfort.

“You are a remarkable woman,” stated Diana, her eyes seemingly piercing her soul, “I’m curious about how someone like you came to be. Did you always love archaeology?”  
“Actually,” hesitated Lara, “I’m more curious about you. Your knowledge of ancient Greece is amazing, have you been a curator for long?”

Diana marked a pause, her thumb slightly gliding on the edge of her glass.

“It has not be that long actually, but I learned most of my craft as an art dealer.”

For someone who claimed to be direct, Diana was surprisingly prompt at evading questions. Her answer had been vague to say the least, but it only made Lara curiouser. However before she could even start another sentence, her hostess launched an inquiry of her own.

“I hear you are more of a practical woman, is it not? More eager to be on expeditions than in libraries.”  
“That… is not the case actually”, clarified Lara, a bit hurt by the implications of that comment. “I love expeditions, I love seeing how people lived, finding clues of their whereabouts. But most of my work, well most of my childhood is spent reading books. After all, what would be the point of exploring if you wouldn’t read the reports of past explorers. One life isn’t enough to embrace all that the world has to offer, but thanks to books, we have access to the knowledge of a lifetime in a few hours.”

It had been all the more true since her last adventure. Being for all intent and purposes alone at the Croft Manor, reading has been a fundamental part of her daily life. The huge Croft library had been furnished with new publications, and she dutifully read them all in multiple language to keep her practice fresh. Not that it had any uses any more.

“What about you? Do you travel a lot?” she immediately continued, unshaken by Diana’s blatant attempt at distracting her.  
“I do try,” she unflappably answered, taking a sip of her own wine, “traveling is one of my favourite pass time. Sadly, being a curator does root me more than my previous profession.”  
“What was your favourite expedition?” inquired Lara, “What place impressed you the most?”

For an instant, Diana’s eyes wandered on a port hole. Outside, the night was dark, and the Seine slow flow was gently rocking the barge. She quickly regained her composure, but couldn’t hide the faint sadness in her voice.

“There is no place like home. But an event in Australia left me with quite the mark. Jeremy, an acquaintance of mine, had asked me to visit the remains of a shipwreck before it was recovered. We took to the sea and dove to the ship. It was my first time, and it was… impressive.”  
She paused, as if conflicted about something. Then, after a glance at Lara, the discreet woman seemingly made up her mind.  
“The ship had been lost for centuries, but it wasn’t the most impressive part. There had been a mutiny after the vessel had run aground on reefs. The survivors had split into groups and had began slaughtering each other for resource, power, or sometimes bloodlust. Men, women, children, babies. None were spared. Early on a party had left the others to die on their islands as they looked for rescue, and their darkest instincts took over. Soldiers fighting against mutineers for a mouthful of water, for crumbles of bread. And when rescue arrived, executions. Some had their hands chopped off before being hanged, others were left marooned, never to be heard from again. And there is stood, submerged, as a macabre monument of-” 

She interrupted herself, cutting her outrage short. For the first time since they had met, Diana’s voice expressed something other than calm or soft interest. Her tone was hard, and filled with refrained anger. Her eyes progressively betrayed her shock by their intensity, as if trying to burn through the glass of wine she was staring at. But she relaxed. And the anger was gone.

“Of course I learned of it only later, when the research became available.”

Well, Lara was digging for something, and something she had found. As per her experience, when people passionate about history and archaeology mentioned their favourite expedition, place, or object, they were talks of joy and wonder. One rarely invest oneself in a field about death and ruin without a positive outlook on it all. And yet here she was.  
Of course that didn’t help much, Lara was hardly in the mood for sharing bad memories and stories of slaughters. More than ever, she was beginning to feel it all had been a mistake. Diana had refused to open, the situation was more uncomfortable than ever, and Lara was wondering how she could excuse herself while having to sleep here.  
She opted for the shameless approach.

“Miss Prince,” she started, putting her glass down “this may not have been such a good idea after all.”  
“Ho, I’m sorry if I embarasse-”  
“No it’s ok. You are charming, but I think I’ll leave now.”

She got up before a confused Diana. It seemed that she wasn’t expecting her guest to just leave as Lara was doing. Still, she didn’t protest, only rose from her chair and politely proposed:

“Please, allow me to accompany you out, maybe call you a taxi.”  
“Thank you miss Prince, but it’s not...”

Something shifted. A knot formed in her guts. A familiar sensation.  
Lara’s eyes wandered on the glass of wine on the table. It was slightly tilted toward the bank. And the rocking had stopped.

“Are you waiting for anyone?”  
“No. why do you ask?”  
“People are boarding the barge.”  
“Ho?”

Lara could feel the panic crawl its way from the bottom of her brain. Diana was looking at her, worried, and she was worried about herself too. Surely this was a misunderstanding. This wasn’t some country far away, this was four hours from home. She was safe. Had to be.  
Diana’s hand brushed her shoulder. She was smiling.

“Well then, I’ll just go and see what’s going on.”

And there she went. Lara… relaxed a bit. Taking deep breaths, she tried to impose calm upon the sudden spike of anxiety. It happened more and more often. Cold sweat in the night, jumping at the most minor sound. And that pain, like barbed wire around her lungs. Like a restless animal, unable to sleep. It’s only after Diana had disappeared up the stairs that she realized her hand had grasped her knife from the table. Without thinking.

“You’re going crazy Lara…” she repined herself.

Then, a sound caught her attention. It emanated from the front of the barge, where were the kitchen and the bedroom. And it sounded just like footsteps. Someone had dropped from the front entry into the barge just as Diana had exited.  
In autopilot, Lara rushed toward one of the largest sofa and crawled to its side, knife in hand. The whole room, which she had thought comfy and well lit, had turned into a nightmare with no cover nor shadows. And no escape. The stairs were just too far away to dash to, and the windows were sealed. There, crouched behind wood and fabric, completely open to whoever would go down the stairs, she froze like a trapped animal.

The door slowly opened. She could hear it glide, wood against wood. Two entered the vast room, the irregularities in the footsteps never lied. They briefly paused, probably scanning the room. Did they see her? If they did, they didn’t react. Slowly, they walked forward, sweeping the area.  
Lara couldn’t risk taking a look, she had no idea who was there or what they wanted. But her mind imagined weapons, armour, and a shoot on sight policy. And she had a shirt, and a knife.  
They were smart, one went to the right and the other to the left. The steps slowly approached. The knife in her hand began to shake. She couldn’t jump on them, they would shoot her right away. She couldn’t run for it. She could only hear them helplessly as they progressed through the barge, as they closed in on her. For an instant, she decided to get up and surrender. It was her only option. But just before she could, gunshots made themselves heard above them. Bursts of little pops, interrupted by groans of pain. Then, the sounds of people running, their foot hammering the ceiling as they shouted undecipherable orders.

Then the ceiling exploded. A body in black swat armor had gone through it before smashing on the ground in a thundering crack. The cold air and gunpowder invaded the vast room as the sound of gunfire raged from the hole. Moving as one, both sets of foot advanced toward their injured companion. As they moved pass without seeing her, she finally saw her enemy. Armored, with helmets and a mask, with automatic rifles, a side arm, and a combat knife. They even had night vision goggles strapped to their helmet just in case. They were serious.  
Lara had no idea what was going on exactly, but she didn’t overthought the situation. Barely getting up, she moved behind one of them and charged, knife in hand.

“Look out!”

The cry came from the other’s companion whose vigilance saved his life. He expertly turned around, and blocked Lara’s attack to his neck with his rifle. But not enough. A centimetre of the knife had already penetrated his lower jaw, and his eyes widened in surprise and pain. But not for long. Already he was pushing back, trying to give his friend a clear shot, and Lara was dwarfed by his stature and weight. Her left hand was faster however. In one move, she drew his side arm and pointed it just under his arm. As the cross of his rifle smashed against her face, two detonations exploded against his unprotected skin.  
She fell back, the world whirling around her. Her mind numb from the shock. As if possessed by a spirit of its own, her arm pulled her victim down with her, using him as a shield. It didn’t stop the other from shooting. Powerful bursts smashed against the thick armor of his friend with little effect. She finally hit the ground, crushed under the weight of her shield. Using the sudden stability she aimed and shot.  
Bullets rained as she emptied her clip, piercing the library, gutting the books behind the second shooter. One shot smashed against the helmet in a sinister crack. Like a tree, the man stiffen and fell.

Her ears were ringing. Her mouth was bleeding. The firefight over her head was still raging. The man over her was leaving a weak last breath on her neck. Lara pushed him aside and tried to tear his rifle off his hands, unsuccessfully. Even dead, or dying, his hands were locked on it. She snatched his knife and turned around only to see the other one rise up. The bullet had bounced against his helmet, merely knocking him out an instant, and already he tentatively pointed his gun at her. She jumped on him like a tiger before he could align his aim.  
Everything went white, the rage of battle had took her. Her body reacted as her mind was erased by fury. She danced around the mighty assailant as he tried to close in, cutting him with when she could, but not even reaching the flesh. The other’s brief confusion had subsided, and he proved a cunning fighter, making full use of his size and power, trying to force her either to grapple or to retreat at a distance he could shoot her. He was experienced. She was vicious.

She sneaked into his guard, plunging her knife straight for his leg, but in a lightning fast move he seized her hand. The pain exploded in her wrist as he forced her to release the knife, but she barely noticed it. With one move, she slid his night vision google over his eyes and turned it on. Suddenly blinded, disoriented, the man left a few precious instants of opening during which Lara seized his knife. Not fast enough.  
Even blind, he charged forward. He crushed her breasts with his elbow, lifting her in a barbaric scream as she stabbed his back frenetically. They crashed on the bust of Hera, shattering it in a thousand pieces. Lara’s air disappeared from her lungs. All energy exited her. She fell to the ground like a lifeless doll, and the armoured monster followed her. He grabbed her knife and tried to turn it against her. They were now two animals, fighting for survival on the ground, screaming and hissing. And she was losing. The other was too heavy, too strong, and the knife grew closer to her throat. She could see his eyes. Fury. Ice cold fury.  
Unable to use her hands, unable to move her legs, the knife inexorably descending on her. But she refused to die.

She spat to his face. A mixture of blood and saliva entered his eye lid, made him scream in pain. With all her strength, Lara forced the knife to the side and it only grazed her throat as it stabbed the wood. She would have torn his face off with her bare teeth if not for his helmet. Instead her hand grabbed his pistol at his side, and he redirected the knife to decapitate her.

Then, he flew away.  
She didn’t understood exactly what happened, she even felt rage at him escaping her grasp. The man just lifted up backward and crashed on the ceiling before falling down, breaking the ground with all his weight. Above Lara, imperious, powerful, impossible, was Diana Prince. Her dress had been torn, her arms had been grazed by bullets, and in her hands was a golden rope that shined of an otherworldly glow. Yet her eyes showed only concern as they laid upon Lara.  
With her help, the adventurer stood up. A storm was whirling in her head. She had so many questions. But the last assailant's groans as he slowly rose from the ground washed them all away. She pointed a gun at his face, ready to unload everything, but Diana’s firm hand blocked her before she could adjust her aim.

“I got this.” she simply announced with such a factual, detached tone Lara couldn’t doubt her.

Despite getting up, the man was in bad shape. The brutal battle in full armour had taken its toll, and at least one stab in his back had drew blood. And that wasn’t even mentioning whatever Diana had done to him. He vacillated, leaned on the wall behind him, still holding his knife as if his life depended on it.  
Diana took one step forward, and her lasso took life. It lunged forward in a flash and wound around his arm as he lifted it in defence.

“You cannot win.” She spoke as if she was saying an absolute truth. “And you cannot lie. Tell me, who sent you?”

The lasso burned brighter for a second as the man tried to pulled Diana forward with it, only to fail miserably. What happened to his strength? What was happening at all?

“I...” He muttered, in pain. “I… D…”  
“Speak!” Diana ordered. “The lasso compels you!”  
“I DON’T KNOW!”

In a futile act of defiance, he brought his knife to the rope.

And everything went dark.

 

Lara woke up brutally. Diana was lying on her, completely inert. Her sense of balance blared like an alarm in her head as she took her bearings. The barge was sinking. The whole room had been devastated, as if a bomb went off. And in place of the assailant was a huge hole.

“Diana? Ho shit… wake up!” she tried, shaking the massive woman to no avail. She was out, still grasping her rope, now devoid of any light. “Ok! Ok… I’m getting you out of there.”

Adrenaline burned her veins as she lifted Diana off the ground. The whole barge was cracking open, unable to withstand the brutal destruction. She could hear the structure split beneath her feet as she hurried to the stairs. They were steep, she was burdened. And yet she tore her body apart bringing Diana up, screaming all the way through. The barge was now condemned, and water burst through its wound, devouring the collections, the blood, and the bodies all at once. Lara crossed the bridge to the land just as it broke, escaping a watery tomb with the last of her strength.

She faltered. She fell on the ground. She could hear the sirens getting closer, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything. There, on the stone, she curled in a ball.  
And cried.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

The hospital was quiet. Eerily so even. Lara hated the smell ever since their return from the Yamatai expedition, five years ago. So many dead. Back then, she just couldn’t wait to get out, to move on, to escape the doubtful gaze of the nurses, and the condescending tone of the doctors. But there she was again. This time she would not escape.  
There was a policeman at the door of her room, and the window was locked. All they needed was the approval of the doctor and she would be transferred for a more detailed interrogation. After all, she had admitted to kill one of her assailant, without her lawyer present no less. He was on his way right now, but she didn’t care. She tried very hard not to care about it. Not to think about it.

There, alone, in the blank room smelling of death and past horrors, sitting on the rough comfort of a sterile bed, she stood silent. Mute.

“Excuse me madam?”

The politeness of the policeman was sweet to her ears.

“Miss Prince wants to see you. Your lawyer told us to not let anyone in without his approval but…”  
“It’s alright, thanks. Let her in.”

The door opened to the curator. She was wearing new clothes already, as if someone had delivered them to her in the hospital. The idea made Lara cough a discreet laugh. Even in the midst of all this madness, somehow, Diana had managed to change wardrobe.

“Thank goodness you seem well.” Diana smiled  
“Just minor injuries. I was lucky.” Answered Lara, avoiding eye contact.

Diana on the other hand was completely unscathed. All traces of cut had vanished, and none could have guess she had been in a firefight and blown away by a blast a few hours ago. She was… pristine.

“You must have quest-”  
“I don’t want to know.”

Lara’s answer was dry and definitive, taking the curator aback.

“I just wanted to tell you”, Lara continued “that whatever happened last night is not my concern. And I want no part in it.”

Diana stood in silence, puzzled. Then her expression melted in compassion. The giant woman sat next to her, laying her hand on Lara’s. But the other just turned away.

“Lady Croft, I am sorry you suffered through this. But don’t let it break you. There is… a larger world. Secrets. And I understand that witnessing it can be disorienting.”  
“You don’t get it.”

Lara locked her gaze in the Diana’s eyes. There was anger in it. There was violence.

“You are not my first. I have crossed path with the supernatural before, I have seen it. I have used it. From the immortal Queen who nearly killed my best friend, to the ancient God who needed to die, I’ve lived through it. And. I. Had. Enough.”

Lara’s tone became hard and spiteful. Her body was burning with fury, tensed as if she was ready to lash at Diana. But behind the rage, the demigoddess saw pain.

“Do you know what happens when you approached the supernatural? It grabs you, it drags you. Every time I approached it, every time I even inquired about it all hell broke loose. Secrets better forgotten were unearthed, prophecies were fulfilled. My friends died! Hundreds of innocents died because I wouldn’t leave it alone! No more!”

She pushed Diana’s hand away, her eyes on the verge of tears, her mind in a haze. And then all energy seemed to leave her. Like a burden falling on her, a deep, deep fatigue dissipating all passion, all will. All light in her eyes.

“I won’t run anymore. I’ve had enough. I don’t want to know. So many people wouldn’t have died if I just… If I had just left it alone.”

She took a long, deep breath.

“I’m done killing people.”


End file.
